


Exchange No Gifts

by Crystalshard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Friends with Benefits, Injury Recovery, Strangers to Friends, Touch-Starved, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalshard/pseuds/Crystalshard
Summary: After waking up with cybernetics where her stomach should be, it takes Fennec Shand more time to recover than she expects. Forming a slow friendship with her rescuer, she comes to realize that Boba Fett needs just as much time to recover as she does.(This was supposed to be quick smut. And then it grew backstory.)
Relationships: Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Boba Fett/Fennec Shand
Comments: 37
Kudos: 159





	Exchange No Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [cac0daemonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cac0daemonia/works), go check out her art!

Recovery took longer than she expected. 

Learning to walk again had to wait on learning to sit again. The bionics that took the place of major muscles couldn't replicate nerves, and Boba patiently re-tuned them again and again until her torso responded almost the way it used to. It was disconcerting, feeling nothing, feeling empty, when she knew all too well the configuration of the machinery inside her. The day she first sat up on her own was her second victory since that pup of a would-be bounty hunter had tried to kill her. 

(Her first victory was living long enough to do so.) 

"Hey!" she called triumphantly into the single main room of the abandoned hut Boba had holed up in. "Looks like your tinkering finally worked." 

Boba turned around just enough to see her, glanced once at her, and grunted. "Took you long enough," he said, already turning back to his task of preparing that night's food in the scanty kitchen area. 

"Come help me up," Fennec demanded. 

Boba didn't even look up as he continued to debone the dead sand snake that had been unfortunate enough to cross his path. 

Fennec growled to herself, staying stubbornly upright. _If I can sit, I can stand,_ she told herself. She reached for the edge of the L-shaped bed-or-couch, preparing to twist her legs to the side -

"Don't." The steady rhythm of chopping underlaid Boba's words. "I've got you functioning well enough in a straight line, but twist too far and you might throw everything out of joint. And you wouldn't notice until you'd wrecked those new innards of yours." 

He was right, and Fennec knew it. It didn't mean she had to like it - but it also didn't mean that she could complain about slow progress to the man she owed her life to. 

"If you stay where you are, you might be able to feed yourself for a change," Boba suggested, and Fennec bristled at the blunt fact that was a hair away from being an insult. Still, it was worth it, because handling her own meal was infinitely preferable to Boba lifting spoon after spoon of soup to her lips as if she was a baby. 

There were more noises from Boba's direction, and Fennec compromised by twisting her head as far as it would go without moving her torso. She could more or less see Boba now, and when she couldn't she could track him by the noises he made. It made the assassin side of her relax a little more, even as she noted his skill with a knife. 

He'd spotted her watching, she knew. Boba was too canny a bounty hunter to have missed such an obvious signal, but instead of hiding further, he began humming. The song wasn't one she knew, the words delivered in Boba's deep, rough, and surprisingly in tune voice. It let her track him better, a constant sound instead of random clatters, and her muscles loosened by another fraction. 

It took her several minutes before she understood that this was another of Boba's inexplicable kindnesses, and she narrowed her eyes. Kindness was useless, it cost you the things you needed for survival. 

"Glare all you like," Boba told her, all his apparent attention on the snake stew he was dishing up. "I'd prefer not to end up with a knife in my back because I startled you." 

Hm. Perhaps that made sense after all. Not kindness, but self-preservation. 

Boba crossed the room with two bowls and two spoons, and handed one of each to her without ceremony. Unlike the broths and thin soups he'd provided on previous days, this stew had meat in it, and slices of vegetable instead of the mashes or purees he'd made for her recovering internal organs. Learning how to sustain herself with a stomach half the size it should have been was tricky, but at least she still had one. 

"An upgrade?" Fennec commented, nodding to the bowl even as she took her first bite. 

Boba swallowed his own spoonful of stew before replying. "You sat up. I thought we should celebrate." 

Fennec still couldn't tell if he was sincere or not. 

* * *

Days passed, and her strength returned. Boba adjusted her cybernetic muscles until she could stand, walk, run, and finally replicate her old moves. They sparred in the dusk of Tatooine's twin sunset, and Fennec learned to work around the lack of sensation at the front of her torso. Her spine was still intact, and she learned to read the pull on her back muscles and the way her still-existing flesh interacted with the machinery. 

Day after day, she won her victories. Boba made her work for them, challenging her further and further as she relearned her body, holding back less and less as her old skill returned. The day she shot a womp rat with her sniper rifle, Boba told her to shoot a few more and then took their ancient speeder out to fetch the carcasses. 

It only occurred to Fennec that she'd have had him in her sights - and he'd still trusted her not to shoot him - when she was lying in bed, well fed on grilled womp rat. And she hadn't shot him. Hadn't even thought about it. 

_Because you owe him your life,_ she thought firmly. _He is not a friend. You don't have friends._

* * *

Fennec shouldered her rifle, leaning slightly forward as she called down the rough-cut stairs that led to the hut's cave basement. "Boba? I'm going out to trade with the Tuskens. Has the vaporator produced any spare water?" 

No reply came from the basement, and Fennec eyed the stairs speculatively. In the weeks she'd been here, she'd never once trespassed below the main house. The basement, by unspoken agreement, was Boba's space. 

Well. Agreements were meant to be broken. 

Ensuring that her footsteps sounded loudly on the stone - she had as little wish to be shot as Boba did, and startling a bounty hunter was not an act that promised long life - Fennec made her way down into the cellar. It was fractionally cooler below ground, but the noise of the ancient generator made it almost impossible to hear anything useful. 

A figure in a dark, rough-spun cloak moved in the shadows, and Fennec exhaled. "Boba. Do we have any spare water for the Tuskens?" 

Boba nodded briefly, and plucked a canister off a stone ledge. "See if you can negotiate for something other than those white roots. There should be some dried sand snake in the kitchen, if you want to take that too." 

He hadn't said a word about her intrusion. In a way, she'd have preferred it if he'd yelled at her, because then she would know where she was with him. "Is this where you sleep?" she asked instead, throwing the words at him to provoke a reaction. "Do you even have a bed down here?" 

Boba shrugged, apparently unaffected by her tone. "I can sleep anywhere." 

Fennec rolled her eyes. "There's no need to sleep here," she pointed out. "The bed is wide enough for two." 

Finally, finally, she'd found something to surprise Boba. "You sure you want to share? I might snore."

"I've slept through worse." Fennec snatched the water canister out of Boba's hands. "I'll be back before sunset." 

* * *

Despite his words, Boba didn't snore. He slept so quietly that Fennec woke up during the night and felt the need to check he was still breathing, as silent and still as he was. His chest barely rose as he lay on his side like a log, politely facing away from her towards the open room. 

Between the cool stone wall and Boba's warm, broad back, Fennec should have felt trapped. Stifled. Overheated. Instead, she felt comfortable, knowing that the only person on the planet that she held any fragment of trust in was where she could keep an eye on him. 

Slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping man, Fennec lifted a hand to his back. Boba shivered when she placed it over his upper spine, but he stayed asleep as she felt the muted thump of his strong, steady heartbeat. 

She must have slept soon after, because she remembered no more. 

* * *

The first time Fennec deliberately touched Boba outside of sparring was when they were both a little tipsy. The Jawas had been by, and she and Boba had traded some snake venom for a few speeder parts. The little scavengers had also thrown in an old bottle of dubious alcohol - her Jawaese was rusty, but she thought they'd made some kind of comment about trading poison for poison. 

Neither of them were willing to let their guard down as far as _drunk_ , but there was nothing wrong with a mild buzz now and again. The level in the bottle dropped slowly as they passed it back and forth, the slow-spreading warmth worth the acidic taste. 

". . . and that was when Jabba laughed and told him he was hired." Boba gestured with the bottle. 

Fennec adroitly relieved him of it. Fastening her lips over the bottle's rim, she took another sip. "I'd heard that Jabba liked the audacious ones." 

Boba stole back the alcohol, taking a sip of his own before placing it on the table. "He did. Most didn't last long, but the ones smart enough to be polite to Jabba and impudent to the people he disliked managed to stay alive for a while." 

Fennec laughed freely. "Like you, you mean?" 

Boba chuckled. "I got by because I took contracts, but I worked for me. Not Jabba. And I kept my head down and brought in his bounties." 

"Smart man." She clapped him on the shoulder, then pulled back her hand as she felt the muscles under her palm stiffen. "Ah. My apologies." 

"People don't touch me much," he said simply. "Even if they tried, my armor used to hold them off. After . . . after, there wasn't anyone willing to." 

Fennec tilted her head to one side, and blinked a little at the head rush. "Perhaps we can fix that for you. But right now, I'm going to use the 'fresher." 

Boba nodded, deliberately not looking at her, and Fennec made her way carefully to the tiny nook that served the hut as its 'fresher. 

* * *

Now that Fennec had a goal again, her extended recovery bothered her less. Boba was a fascinating project, reluctant to have her near him one day and practically purring like a tooka the next under her carefully measured touches. Every day was a new challenge, and she thrived on it. 

"Where do you think we should go next?" Fennec asked, leaning shoulder to shoulder against Boba so that their upper arms pressed together. 

Boba didn't even twitch at the contact, instead gesturing at the datapad he held. "My ship needs fuel if it's going to go any distance." He glanced at her shrewdly. "Why do you ask? Do you have somewhere you want to go?" 

Fennec's hand went to the bantha-leather wrap that covered her open stomach. "Now? No. But I don't want to stay here for the rest of my life, and I don't think you do either." 

Boba shrugged his unoccupied shoulder in wry agreement. "No. I want to get my armor back." 

Boba could have said, 'I will get my armor back and there is nobody who can stop me,' and the power and intent behind his words would have been the same. For a moment, Fennec pitied anyone who got between Boba and one of the last legacies his father had left to him. 

"It's probably still here on Tatooine," Boba continued. "And we'll need credits. Know of any good bounties?" 

"Maybe one or two. Depends if there's still a bounty out on me." 

"I'll check with the Guild," Boba said absently. "I should still be on their books." 

Fennec chuckled. "Big bad bounty hunter." 

"Hmm." Boba kept his eyes on the 'pad. 

* * *

Fennec woke as she always did, snapping from asleep to awake in a fraction of a second. Her nose was bare inches from the dry scar tissue on the back of Boba's neck, her right arm wrapped over his solid chest and her hand resting lightly over his heart. Her fingers pressed into his skin, wanting to pull him closer and away from whatever threat had roused her. 

"Sorry." Boba's voice was rougher than usual. "Didn't mean to wake you." 

Fennec inhaled, and over the familiar scent of sweat and desert and human male she could smell another very familiar odor. Male arousal, nearby and unmistakable. She'd bet a blaster that Boba had his hand down his pants right now. "Would you like a hand?" 

Boba choked on air. "What?" 

"It's a straightforward offer. Do you want a hand? Someone else touching you?" 

Boba went still, and for a moment Fennec thought she'd pushed too far. Then Boba shivered all over and exhaled slowly. "Yes." 

Fennec let her fingers relax, tracing warm muscle and ravaged skin as she curled herself tight against his back. When her fingers passed over one of his nipples, Boba took a shuddering breath, and she smiled to herself. A weak point, and one she could exploit . . . but right now, she chose to bring pleasure to a man she would tentatively call a friend. 

She teased Boba with that hand, indulging in the kind of skin-to skin contact she hadn't had much chance to give him yet. When her palm ran over his stomach, the muscles jumped, and Boba tensed again. 

"I've got you," she murmured. "It's okay. You can let go." 

Boba nodded, and on the next stroke of her hand over his ribs he arched into her touch. So delightfully responsive, so desperate for intimate contact with another sentient being. She rather enjoyed being the cause of such reactions. 

In time, Fennec grew tired of the skin she had available above Boba's waist. Boba himself seemed to be getting something out of it, at least, given the rapid, shallow pants that emerged from his throat. Fennec slid her fingers up Boba's chest and paused for a brief moment over his throat to feel the way it expanded and contracted as he breathed. Then, practically, Fennec held her hand up to Boba's mouth. "Lick it," she ordered quietly. She'd cleaned her hands under the sonic when getting ready to sleep, it should be safe enough. 

His tongue was softer than she'd imagined. Somehow she'd expected it to be tooka-rough, to match the rest of him, but his tongue was slick and supple, flicking between her fingers in a way that implied he'd had some practice at pleasing a woman. It was a pleasant thought, but not one for now. Now was the time to give Boba what he needed, not to make him submit to her own dim desires. 

She felt Boba wriggle against her, and then noticed that she could feel skin against her legs. As she contemplated that development, Boba's hand cupped the back of hers and guided it down past his waist. It didn't take a genius to understand what he wanted, and she wrapped her hand firmly around his cock, savoring the feel of solid steel under silk. 

"Ah . . ." The sound escaped from Boba's mouth as he failed to bite it back, and she could feel the tremble in his thighs as he held back from thrusting into her grip. 

Experimentally, Fennec ran a damp thumb over the sensitive patch under the head, and was rewarded by a hiss from between Boba's clenched teeth. "Let go," she urged again. "I think you need this." 

"Yes," Boba whispered, less a word than an exhalation of sound, and his hips jerked into her hand. Once begun, there was no stopping as he continued to thrust into her hold, his right hand gripping the edge of the bed to provide leverage. 

Unwilling to let Boba do all the work, Fennec waited for a few moments to track the rhythm and then matched him with her own hand. The added stimulation drew another grunt from Boba. Fennec smiled; she did like to know she was doing a good job, and those little noises were at least more honest than the over-acted moaning some of her previous partners had indulged in. 

"T-tighter," Boba gasped after a time which neither of them cared to measure, and Fennec obliged him. She could feel the slight swell of Boba's cock as he neared his peak, his steady pace disintegrating into wild thrusts as he chased the ecstasy her hand offered. "I'm . . ." 

"I've got you." Fennec timed another brush of her thumb under the head of Boba's cock, and he sobbed in relief as orgasm flooded his body with feel-good chemicals. Fennec kept pumping him until his moans took on an edge of pained oversensitivity, then let him go.

Boba melted into the bed, loose-boned and languid, his naked back heaving against her chest as he sucked in air. "Thank you," he said simply. 

Fennec lifted her head to press a kiss to his bare scalp. They'd need to clean up soon, but she saw no point in ruining a good afterglow. "You're welcome." 

And if she saw a tear or two running from Boba's eyes, she didn't mention it.

* * *

Two weeks later, Boba watched as a Mandalorian defeated a Greater Krayt Dragon and sped off with the very armor that Boba had been searching for. Turning away from the ridge where he'd kept watch, he nodded to Fennec as she fell in at his side. "I need to know everything you can find about that Mandalorian." 

Fennec raised an eyebrow. "Of course. First, however, my best guess is that he'll be docked in Mos Eisley. It's the closest town by speeder bike. If we beat him there, we can get a tracker on his ship." 

A savage smile curled one side of Boba's mouth. "I like the way you think."


End file.
